


Total Eclipse

by Sigrid_Dragun



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Empress Azir, F/M, Female Azir, Genderbending, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 06:44:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11731665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigrid_Dragun/pseuds/Sigrid_Dragun
Summary: To raise a sun is to cast a shadow.





	Total Eclipse

**Author's Note:**

> I really want Empress!Azir in my life so here you go ;) Pre-Ascension.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the awesome champions.

The Empress had him waiting in her private audience chamber. 

The hour was late. Xerath was alone, but for his partnering shadow on the silken rug. He couldn’t help but wonder whether Azir was really having her hands too full with other concerns to summon him, or whether, quite simply, she was finding a certain childish delight in keeping him waiting. Now that would be in the character. The whey-faced magus paced to the curtained window, his arms crossed, frowning in a gesture of deep concentration. Only Mother Desert knew that for half of his lifetime and more, Azir had _always_ made him wait longer than expected and much _much_ longer than he deserved. 

And it made him furious. The intensity of his rage grew with time. But even so the neutral expression on his pallid face would betray nothing, his sea-blue eyes opaque, like two dark wells, no hint of what was hidden beneath. _Obscure_. He had never been one to show in outward actions his interior sentiments either. Full of politics of charm and a ruthless dedication to grandiose power, Xerath had gone so far and fought too hard to where he was today, so close to the throne, so close to the reins of power. He ought to be as cautious as possible, of losing the Empress's support; whether like it or not the truth remained only through her could he possibly run Shurima and beyond. _Let the spoiled child keep her monstrous pride and vanity then_. He would not let his temper got the better of him. He still needed Azir. _For now._

Xerath waited in the dark. And waited. From the rune-engraved wall in front of him a hidden door opened on a thin figure. He hold his smile as he glanced at the dark-skinned slave girl with ivory earrings. 

“The Empress is waiting for you.” And so he followed her into the dusty secret passage. A narrow corridor led to the great carved door of the proud Empress's bedchamber, the very heart of the gold-weaved eyrie. A smile started to play around Xerath’s lips. _What is the point in trying to conceal the liaison when half of the city already talks of the indecency between the Empress and her Magus?_

The slave girl put a black iron key into the lock, and stepped back into the shadows. Xerath hesitated before pushing the unlocked door open. 

The warm night air was a mix of ambergris and sweet musk oil. 

“My dear Magus.” A voice came from the far end of the bedchamber, a deep and sultry, almost breathy voice. “Come over here.”

“Empress Azir.” Xerath said and bowed low. The polished floor was decorated with mosaics to depict a soaring hawk. Too vulgar for his liking.

Quietly, he walked forward.

Sitting straight upright upon a high-backed chair, in gilded armour that gave off a bronze gleam, her chin lifting and piercingly bright green eyes dancing with wild mischief under raised eyebrows of brown tint, the Empress of Shurima, the pride and grace of Mother Desert, Azir, smiled at him, at once pleading and possessive. _Azir._ Xerath took a deep breath. She was so charismatically beautiful, that much is undeniable, with smooth olive skin, a perfectly symmetrical face that looked almost unworldly under the soft glow of a single oil lamp. A Shurima sun, yet ten times more glorious than that of the Sands. A golden goddess. A golden _fool_. 

For a long moment Xerath stood stock-still, barely breathing. _All the things I do... for this face._ He thought bitterly, a spark of anger flared within him once again. _All the bloodshed. All the betrayal._ That chair Azir sat in... like a sovereign’s burnished throne. Behind her green, devastating eyes, thunder, sandstorm and drum. But in those early years, Azir was someone completely different. The poor, lonely princess... she had a sort of vulnerable appeal, with wounded shyness in her tender eyes. She should have taken the white robe and become a priestess of the temple as her destiny laid out for her. Yet look at her now... how fierce are those flashing eyes, like twin suns... Terrifying. 

“Xerath.” Azir muttered, rising from the chair, her figure tall and slender. All the long braids of nut-brown hair sway back and forth resonating with her graceful movement. “I’ve been waiting for you... for eternity.” 

It was _him_ that was kept waiting in the dark. Xerath’s heart sank and his face creased into a cold half-smile. In his blue eyes there was a faint look of innocent cunning. Slowly, slowly Xerath approached Azir, kneeling before the sublime olive beauty to kiss her golden ring. “I came as fast as I could.” His voice was dangerously smooth, filled with sugar-coated manipulation. “As you well know. I’d do anything for the pleasure of this moment, to have my sovereign with me.”

Azir laughed a little, moving her fingers to gently touch his jaw. “You look so pale, my friend. I hope you are not too stressed out with your education?” When they were just little children and the Sands itself was younger, the two of them would gladly spend their entire day in the Great Library, reading and having scholarly discussions of ancient knowledge, until they grew hungry as Ralsijis. That was a long, long time ago. 

“No.” Xerath caught her palm and kissed it lightly. “Not at all.” His practices of black magic and sorcery had become a rich topic for the latest scandal. _Does Azir know?_

Azir sighed, giving him a quick but nontheless polite embrace. “And so thin. Nasus is not feeding you.”

“Too busy babysitting the rebellious younger brother. You can’t really blame the poor general.” Xerath returned to her a mirthless smile.

“Well,” Azir said more seriously, “Renekton was having a hard time dealing with raiders and trade routes in the northern frontier. His wrath will take time to cool down. And we must be patient and grateful to our Ascended heroes. Everything they do, they do it for Shurima. For our people and our land.”

“Your loyal and loving subjects. All of us are.” Xerath kissed her on the corner of her lips, light as a feather. He knew perfectly well if he pushed too hard or too quickly, Azir would retreat. However powerful, she still had the easily scared frail child inside of her. He must be so so careful with every movement. But the spoils of victory… would be grand indeed.

A flush of color spread up Azir’s cheeks, as if she was indeed offended by his gentle tease. “I did not consent to that.” She said, trying to look proud. “Do you not know a ruler's dignity shall remain untouched? You could be risking your life, and my honor.”

 _If and only if you have any honor to defend._ Xerath’s smile was sly. “I was only worshipping you. For I am mortal, and all mortal eyes look upon the fair sun.” 

Azir breathed and shot him a pointed look after a while. “Xerath… people _will talk_.”

 _They already did._ “But that’s just you and me now...” He whispered, just before kissing her again. This time he brushed against her mouth. He kissed her until the delicate lips became reddened. Azir let out a tiny breathless moan and finally gave in. Her arms now around his neck as she pressed her shivering body to his. “We really shouldn't...” 

“You don't mean that. In truth, Empress Azir, you have summoned me. And I answered. As always.”

"... I ... _please_." Now all of her proud arrogance and majesty easily faded into a haze, no longer the fearsome warrior-queen, it was just Azir the child in his arms, the poor, lonely creature so sensible to people’s gaze, waiting to be ravaged. _And I win_. Xerath smiled wickedly to himself. _At long last, the slave becomes the master. Who would have thought of that?_

This was certainly not the first time they have gone across the dangerous border. Xerath remembered the moony night that Azir yielded her maidenhead to him. A princess to a slave boy. She opened her legs on snow-white sheets like an exquisite prayerbook. And he took her. It was awkward and intoxicating. The next morning she asked him to leave. _My brothers would have you stoned to death._ She said, with fear in her big green eyes. But Xerath kissed her and kissed her. _Not if you take the crown for yourself._ That was his answer. _Strike down the false ones. And take what is rightfully yours. And we will never be afraid again._

And now they were the only ones left. The stories of the downfall of emperors and princelings… how they have been slain, murdered, drowned in their own blood… all gone. All of them long dead. _Does Azir know?_ All naked she stood there, all too radiant, all too innocent. _How could she not know?_ In the dim light her body looked so soft as it was strong. Xerath sighed. Every time he took her, it was like the entire desert trembled with storm and thunder. The sweet touch of her skin, _ahh_ , the sweet taste of vengeance. A single joyful thrust, a simple slave became a conqueror’s conqueror. That was outrageously _splendid_. 

_Next time I should fuck her on the throne. She will consent._ After they were done, Xerath gently stroked Azir’s sweat-matted hair, his thoughts going faster and faster. _What else do you want?_ He asked himself. _Arcane magic power unmatched. The greatest Empire the world had ever known. The most desirable companion. Kisses and embraces in the dark. Are those not enough for you?_ Xerath shook his head, silently and furiously. _But what about freedom? What about the right to walk under the golden sun?_

Xerath never doubted Azir’s affection for him. He was, after all, the brother she so desperately needed. Her only friend. Her other half. But Xerath was tired of waiting, tired of the shadow, and tired of waiting in _her_ shadow.

There was a promise, an oath she swore to him, unfulfilled to this day. 

Must he wait his whole lifetime for it? 

_No. The treacherous Sands, always shifting... where you think you can grasp it in your hands but forget it will eventually slip away. Lies. All lies._

Curled up next to him, Azir was mumbling in her sleep. Maybe the dream was about him. Maybe it was about her brothers or her father. Maybe she wasn’t dreaming at all. Xerath could no longer care. He sat up straight in the bed, gazing down at her for a long moment. 

At least for this triumphant moment, it was his shadow that took over the Golden Sun.

 

TBC


End file.
